Where My Books Go

ALL the words that I utter,
And all the words that I write,
Must spread out their wings untiring,
And never rest in their flight,
Till they come where your sad, sad heart is,
And sing to you in the night,
Beyond where the waters are moving,
Storm-darken'd or starry bright.

- William Butler Yeats

Sea Fever

I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea & the sky,
And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by;